Been This Way Before
by LaylaYuy
Summary: It's not really the same. His uncle is dead, his family is still alive. But the remnants of Nizam's treachery remain in place, and as he chases after Tamina to keep the dagger safe, it's enough to make Dastan think he's been this way before.
1. Chapter 1

It's been while since I tried writing, but this plot bunny has been nagging at me. I'm using "Señor" by Bob Dylan and sung by Dierks Bentley and the Punch Brothers as a loose guide for the plot. So here it goes. Let me know what you think. Reviews keep the writing fires burning!

* * *

Señor, Señor, can you tell me where we're headin'  
Lincoln County Road or Armegeddon  
Seems like I've been down this way before  
Is there any truth in that, Señor

* * *

Dastan was halfway up the wall he'd scaled during the invasion, suspended next to Bis as he and his men worked their arrows from the stone walls, working with the Alamutians to restore their defenses, when word of his father's arrival reached him. The king wanted a private audience with Tus, and would then hold court to greet the senior officials of Alamut. He wanted to meet with all of his sons privately after court.

Aware that greeting he couldn't meet his father in his current sweaty, sandy clothes, Dastan motioned for his men to lower them to the ground. Grinning at the jibs from the rest of his men about having to pretty up to attend court, he and Bis headed back to the palace.

After washing up and changing into clothes more suitable for court, Dastan and Bis met Garsiv in the hall, waiting for the formal audience with Alamut's rulers to end. Pacing and edgy Garsiv alternated between glaring at Dastan and glaring at the closed door to the court. "Have you heard any word of how Father is handling the news, little brother?"

Equally uneasy, Dastan shook his head in reply. "Aside from our summons to be here, I have not heard anything. I wish there was some way to spare him this. He truly loved Nizam."

Garsiv stopped pacing and focused on Dastan. "How did you know, Dastan? So many things you had to have suddenly seen and understood in such a quick time?" Having asked Dastan that same question many times in the three days since the battle, the shadow that crossed Dastan's face was expected, but no less disconcerting. As was his silence. Garsiv grabbed his upper arm, giving Dastan a slight shake. "Tell me, Dastan. Whatever it is that you know, it is eating at you. We will bear the burden together, as brothers. However you came to know this information, we will understand."

Dastan struggled to find the words that would divert Garsiv's concern and attention. But his response was prevented by the opening of the chamber doors, allowing the exit of Alamut's High Council and their entourage. Through the open doors he could see Tamina accept a goblet of liquid from one of his father's servants. Forcing a deep breath, Dastan moved away from Garsiv and stepped toward the door. As custom dictated, the brothers waited until the receding Alamutians had left before entering. Pushing all thoughts of how things had ended the last time he saw his father, Dastan strode in and turned to face his father.

His father who was wearing the prayer robe of Alamut's Regent. The color draining from his face, Dastan all but yelled, "No! Where did you get that?" Running the last steps to his father, Dastan reached out to pull the clock off. "Could Nizam have gotten to this? You must get it off."

Overcoming their surprise at Dastan's actions, both Tus and Garsiv moved forward toward their father, uncertain of what to do, but trying to help both their father and their brother.

With his eyes wide and confused, Sharaman took in his youngest son's obvious fear and concern, stopping Dastan from removing the clock from his shoulders. "Dastan? The clock is a peace offering from the people of Alamut. I will wear it while I am here, and then return it to them as a sign of good faith."

Tamina appeared beside the king, her eyes blazing in anger and no small amount of suspicion. "We have not harmed your father, Persian. To suggest such an act is a great insult, _Prince_ Dastan."

Breathing as though he'd just run for hours, his head spinning, Dastan forced himself to clear his mind of the past. This was now, not the banquet where his father had died believing Dastan had betrayed him. Nizam had been stopped before he could poison the robe. He was jumping at shadows. Stepping back and rubbing his hand over his eyes, Dastan struggled to find the words to explain his bizarre and, at least to Persia's relationship with Alamut, dangerous behavior.

Tus's voice grabbed his attention before he could formulate his response. "Father, as I told you, Dastan has recently developed an …uncanny ability to see threats stemming from our Uncle. His concern has not been misplaced yet. Perhaps we should again heed his advice, troubled though it might seem."

As Tamina rose to her full height, preparing to flay Tus with her considerable tongue, Dastan intervened. "No. Tamina is correct. The people of Alamut are no threat to you, Father. It is truly a gift from them. Nizam had no time to poison it." The last came out as whisper, told more to himself than to his family and the Princess.

"Princess Tamina, I apologize for any insult I may have given to your people. I know that no threat to my family stems from you or your people. It was only concern for my father that prompted my behavior." Dastan looked at her, expecting to find anger and insult in her eyes. Instead he found fearful suspicion. He had once again managed to arouse her suspicions about how he could predict threats to his family.

Sharaman watched his son with a careful eye. Dastan's color had not yet returned, leaving him pale and worn, his eyes constantly flicking back towards the robe, as though in spite of his words, he couldn't quite bring himself to trust the garment around his father's shoulders. "My brother's betrayal has left this family shaken. Brotherhood was once the sword that kept Persia strong."

"And it will be again, Father," Dastan interrupted. "If there is nothing else I know, it is that the bond between the three of us,will not fail." As he finished speaking, both Tus and Garsiv stepped to his sides, the same beseeching look in Dastan's eyes echoed in theirs. "Brotherhood is still the sword that keeps Persia strong. Without my brothers, Nizam's treachery would not have been stopped."

Pulling Dastan into a hug, which the Prince returned with more force that the King had anticipated, he spoke quietly in his son's ear. "You are king in spirit, Dastan. You follow what you know to be right, even when it flies in the face of those around you. That is what makes you the Lion of Persia. Scaling walls and opening gates are important to Persia in battle, but you have the heart that to direct that battle to the right place."

"But I should have the battle before it happened. I knew something was wrong, and I didn't stop it."

The weight the king saw in Dastans's eyes was far heavier than he would have expected had the mistaken attack been the only cause. Well aware that Dastan took his every word to heart, the King was reminded of his oldest son's words during their audience earlier, that Dastan seemed weighted by this new knowledge he had found. "Yes, you should have," he said, but pulled Dastan's eyes back to him before they could look away in guilt, "but once you realized the extent of the mistake, you did everything in your power to right that wrong. And that shows honor and strength as well."

Stepping back from his son, King Sharaman addressed all three of his sons. "Perhaps the time to inform me of Dastan's upcoming marriage is not now. I think it much more imperative that we learn from Dastan the full nature of Nizam's betrayal, so that we avoid any more surprises and accidental insults to the people of Alamut." He turned to address Tamina, "Forgive me for keeping you here unnecessarily, Princess Tamina. Will you give us this time?"

Tamina hesitated a moment before answering. Her eyes locked on Dastan's. All of her dealings with Dastan had led her to believe that he knew at least the basic details of the dagger. After watching him come apart over a prayer robe, she had the distinctly uneasy feeling that he knew much more than a few repeated seconds could give. And if he were to tell his family…

"Please, Father. Allow the princess to stay." Seeing Tamina pale at his words, he extended a hand to her, sending her an imploring look. "They have a right to know. As do you, Princess. They will bring no harm to your city or what it protects, Princess. I give you my word."

"Your word as the Persian who attacked my city and insulted my people?" Her eyebrow raised, echoing her cold voice.

Dastan gave her determined smile. "My word as one who knows just the dagger is capable of doing, and who does not wish to see that path taken again."

Struggling to keep unease off her face, Tamina placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the cushions surrounding his father's temporary thrown, her eyes boring into his.

"Dastan, she may be your intended, but you've only known her a matter of days. Must she listen as our family secrets are revealed?" Sharaman asked as delicately as a king could.

"In this matter, Father, our secrets are hers as well."

Eyebrows raised and skepticism clear on his face, Garsive asked, "That isn't possible, Dastan. How could she be involved? We watched you make a fool of yourself when you met her the first time."

With a tight smile, Dastan replied. "Tamina and I have a history of awkward dealings. At least in the beginning." Before his family could begin to think Tamina was in any way involved with their uncle, Dastan raised his hands to silence their questions . "Please, allow me to explain. I know this will seem like madness, but hear me out. What I tell you is what I have witnessed with my own eyes …"

Averting his eyes, to avoid looking any of them in the eye, Dastan told his story, sparing no detail he could recall, no matter how small it seemed. The robe, who at first he suspected, the ostriches, each time that he and Tamina tried to steal the dagger away from each other. All of it was laid before them, as coherently as he could manage. The only details he left out were kissing Tamina and her words about wishing they could have been together. He had no wish to confuse this Tamina with the emotions of her other self.

When he finished the room stayed still and silent for several long moments. King Sharaman closed his eyes and swallowed loudly. "How long he must have been planning this. Hiding from all of us."

"I am sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Father. But the Hassansins are still a threat, and I cannot say how many more layers uncle had put into place. I only know the ones that I encountered in that other time."

At his son's apology, Sharaman waved it away. "You have acted to protect your family and the empire, Dastan. You have no reason to feel guilt for that. And we will have to comb through every detail of my brother's life. His treachery cannot be allowed to stand."

* * *

Tamina sat silently as the king and his sons began to discuss the details of their investigation. Her eyes watched each of the men in turn. They had believed Dastan, taking in the details of the dagger with only the slightest shock and disbelief. And now they showed no sign of running to gain the dagger's power for their own, only the deep hurt of betrayal by family.

But Dastan's words about the Hassansin who bore the marks of the Guardians clawed at her. They were no longer pure, their power given to the highest and most dangerous of bidder. And though Nizam was dead, the dagger wasn't safe. Not if the Hassansin chose to use their dagger for their own gain.

As the king and his sons moved to pour over the maps of the empire, Tamina stood and slipped quietly outside. The Gardians had to be informed, and the dagger protected from any remaining threats. Moving quickly, before anyone noticed she was gone, she approached Zhila, one of her closest Guardian attendants. "We will leave within the hour. We will take the dagger to the secret Guardian Temple. Prepare the horses, and prepare to travel inconspicuously."

* * *

Focused on helping his father and brothers located each of the stops he had made on the journey to stop Nizam, and all but overwhelmed that both believed him and forgave him for his doubts over Tus, it took more than an hour before Dastan realized Tamina had slipped away. And for a brief moment, he assumed she had gone to warn her Guardians. That lasted roughly a second before he started for the high temple, knowing what he would find. Moving as quickly as they could without attracting unwanted attention, Dastan lead his family to the temple, only to find it filled with a praying Guardian. The pedestal that held the dagger was empty.

Cursing himself for not anticipating her move to protect the dagger, Dastan swore. He'd told her the Hassansins knew of the secret temple. That left her only one reason to go there. Destroying the dagger would eliminate its threat from everyone. And while he had no problem destroying that cursed thing, he was not willing to do so at the cost of Tamina's life. He wasn't willing last time, and sure has hell wasn't willing to this time.

"This makes how many times has she run from you, Dastan? Five,six?" Garsiv asked, surprised and annoyed by the Princess's actions.

With a glare at his brother he turned to their father. "I have to stop her. I'm not losing her again."

Directing his gaze to the praying, but no doubt attentive Guardian in the temple, Sharaman moved his sons out into the hall way. "Yes, Dastan, you must stop her. If she dies so soon after the invasion, there will be significant political fallout." Seeing the flash of temper in his son's eyes, the king continued. "That will be my reasoning should the Council of Alamut question why I am sending two of my sons to follow and protect their unwed princess. You and Garsiv shall go after Princess Tamina, make sure the dagger is safe, and convince her that she must return. I have no doubt you will do any less, Dastan; I can see how you look at her. If you are questioned as to why you are leaving, you are on a journey to Avrat to deal with more of your uncle's schemes.

"Tus, take half of your army and return Nasaf. No doubt three days is enough time for his servants to destroy any damning evidence, but see what you can find there. Hopefully we will find enough to root out whatever surprises he has left for us before the traps are sprung. I will remain here, under the guise of learning the holy ways of Alamut, and make it appear the princess is still here. We must protect the dagger and Alamut, as well as Persia. I know you will do no less. Be quick and be safe my sons."

* * *

Is it at all interesting?


	2. Chapter 2

Hello all. Thank you for the reviews, favs, and alerts! It's a huge motivator to know that people are interested. Here is chapter 2. If all goes well this weekend, I will post chapter 3 before I go back to work on Monday.

As always, I don't own either Prince of Persia or the song Señor. They belong to Disney and Bob Dylan.

Please let me know what you think! Have a great weekend.

* * *

Señor, señor, do you know where she's hidin'  
How long are we gonna be ridin'  
How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door  
Will there be any comfort there, señor

* * *

The first rays of light were just starting to brighten the sky when Tamina and Zhila left their shelter beneath the shallow rocks of the foothills of the Hindu Kush. Barely able to see the ground before them, they picked their way around the rocks and dips in the path up into the mountains. Biting back a quiet growl, Tamina nudged her horse around a particularly large rut.

By now the Persians were aware that she was gone; they had probably realized she was gone not long after she and Zhila had left. And she had little doubt that Prince Dastan would follow her. She could all but feel him behind her, moving as fast as possible to catch up. Even without hearing him tell of their previous adventure, the way he looked at her made it obvious that he considered her something to protect. And that was almost as disconcerting as his knowledge of the dagger.

With a shake of her head Tamina tried to pull her thoughts away from the arrogant and aggravating Persian prince. If he was behind her, they had little time to spare. Tamina suspected they were roughly two hours ahead of the Persians at best, and still three hours from the temple. Having left too late in the day to make the full ride to the temple in one day without risking injury, they had been forced to stop for the night. Forgoing a fire to hide their position as long as possible, Tamina had watched the night for signs of the following Persian prince. She should have known better than to think he'd give away his position so easily. He wasn't the Lion of Persia because he'd thundered up to her gate.

Closing her eyes in frustration, Tamina forced a deep breath, pulling the worn and rough scarf more tightly around her head and face. In one form or another Prince Dastan had managed to worm his way into nearly her every thought since he had entered her court. Even before Prince Tus had given his unusual introduction and suggested they marry, Dastan had caught her eye.

Sitting on her thrown, face as impassive as any ruler could wish for, she'd been well aware of the looks from the men before her. Surprise, lust, even envy were evident in the eyes of the Persian soldiers arrayed before her, except for the blue eyed man standing between the two obvious princes. Dastan had looked at her with a mixture of peace and affection. As if simply seeing her sitting there was enough to make him utterly content. He'd seemed rather startled, but just as clearly pleased, when Prince Tus had presented their marriage.

She might have laughed privately as he stumbled over his proposal had he not presented her with the dagger, his words making it sound like it was nothing important, and his eyes saying something else entirely. Every conversation they had had since that moment had played out roughly the same way. Interrogation disguised as curiosity on her part and affectionate flirting on his.

He'd made no move to further threaten the dagger. In fact he'd thrown himself into the repairs of her city, his name coming up every time she'd inquired as how to things were going. In three days he'd started to earn the grudging respect of her soldiers, working alongside common men as thought it was an everyday occurrence. More than once tales of him scampering up walls, buildings, and any available grappling surface had raised her eyebrows. As had their conversations during even meals.

He had made a point of seeking her out at meals, a gesture she honestly appreciated since he didn't spend the time spouting his own praises and expecting hers in return. Truthfully he could be rather charming and amusing, though she had no intention of telling him that to his face. He didn't need any encouragement.

But the shadow of the dagger had always been in her mind. Just how much did he know, and what he intended to do with that knowledge. She was a Guardian first, and no matter how genuine Dastan might seem, she couldn't afford to forget her duty. Protecting the dagger was her purpose. Finding a suitable husband who would provide her with the next generation of Guardians was secondary. And that husband wasn't supposed to be aware of what she guarded. He would obviously know she was priestess to the High Temple of Alamut, but he needn't know the details.

It was a system that had served the Guardians well for centuries. The male heirs would continue their father's line, the daughters would continue hers, leading to a subtle but useful separation between husband and wife and their male and female children.

But Dastan knew. And he knew not just about the dagger, but the Sands. He knew every secret there was to know. He'd lived through more than any living Guardian. The first to defeat Alamut's walls in a thousand years, and in spite of watching his whole family murdered before him, he'd not abused the dagger's power, very nearly losing his life to save both it and the world from his uncle. Clearly the gods had some sort of plan for him.

With sun clear in the sky, Tamina urged her horse into an easy canter, forcing herself to not make the poor horse to gallop the last hour to the temple. There was still no sight of the Persians behind them. Perhaps they had managed more of a lead than she'd thought. That left her feeling slightly disappointed. After hearing his tale, she'd believed him to be a tougher opponent.

Stopping to water their horses briefly, Tamina and Zhila had just climbed the top of the hill above the stream when three horses, running at full speed, crested the top of the opposite hill, streaking their way down to thewater below.

Cursing, Tamina dug her heels into the horse's side, sending him flying down the hill side. With a yelp, Zhila managed the same, her eyes wide, riding desperately to keep up with the princess. Leaning forward in her saddle, balancing her weight to help the horse run, Tamina risked a glance over her shoulder. Her horses were in good condition, but she had little doubt of their ability to handle the finest of Persia's war horses.

Sweat beading down her face, hands aching from holding the reigns, and her heart thundering in time with her horse's hooves, Tamina willed her horse faster, racing up the last hill behind the temple. By the top of the final hill, she could hear Dastan behind her, calling encouragement to his horse, pushing the stallion to his limits.

Dust in her mouth, and legs trembling from the effort of holding herself in the saddle, Tamina pulled up on the reigns, wincing for her poor horse as she's flew off, her hands fumbling with the satchel holding the dagger, Tamina stumbled up the path to the temple entrance.

"Tamina! " Dastan grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around, just as she made it to the entrance.

Furious, Tamina ripped her shoulders from his grasp. "It is my duty to protect this dagger, _Prince Dastan_. I will see it safe, from your uncle, from you, from anyone who would use it for their own ends. Too many people know of it now. And you said one of your uncle's men was Guardian. I _have_ to destroy it. I won't let them bring another Armageddon. Not while I can stop it." Even panting her voice lashed out. She shifted her weight on her feet, trying to find a way around him.

Once more pulling her away from the temple entrance, Dastan's eyes blazed with temper as he leaned toward her. "I would be happy to see that cursed thing destroyed. I would gladly do it myself. But not at the cost of your life. My brothers and I are no threat to your dagger, Princess. And I will do all in my power to stop whatever is left of my uncle's treachery from getting anywhere near it. But I will not let you die again."

"It is my choice! And an honor! As the Guardian of the dagger it is my sacred duty, and I will gladly see it through! Or have you forgotten that, Dastan? I died for it once, and I will do so again with just as much honor and just as much serenity." Eyes narrowed, she threw her words at him, putting her body behind her threat until she was inches from him face.

"You died scared, crying and calling my name!" The words tore out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You wanted to live!" Seeing her eyes widen in stunned surprise, her anger immediately transforming into disbelief, he made himself back away. Putting some space between them, he said told her again in a hoarse voice. "You wanted to live."

"You lie." The words were half whispered, her eyes watching his face intently. A shiver went down her spine as his eyes lost focus, obviously seeing her death in his mind. There was a bleakness in his gaze as he focused back on the present, the same look on his face as she'd seen when he spoke of watching his brothers die. Her death had hurt him deeply. Much more deeply than she'd originally thought.

If he had come to care for her that much in the short time they'd been on the run together, Tamina wondered if she too must have come to care for him. She found it nearly impossible to believe she could have cared enough about anyone, much less a Persian Prince, to regret sacrificing her life for the dagger, but the ache in his eyes said that she might have. In the short time she'd come to know him, she'd found Dastan to be many things. But he was neither a skilled liar nor artful manipulator. In truth he had the most expressive face she'd ever seen on a noble.

How could she have let that happen?

Trying to find a suitable answer to his painful silence, Tamina's gaze flickered around the temple entrance, looking for any available avenue of reply. Her floundering response was cut off by Bis.

"Two riders on horses just topped the hill on the other side of the valley. Riding hard on dark horses. They won't have seen us yet. If they are your Hassansins, Prince Dastan, we could move the horses, conceal ourselves. See what they are after."

The sadness in Dastan's eyes faded; the stubbornness did not. She couldn't muscle him out of the way, and he was poised to stop any attempt she made at running inside. Straightening up to her full height, Tamina glared. "This isn't over."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

Sliding the pouch holding the dagger further beneath her clock, Tamina moved quickly to get her horse out of sight. She was surprised to see Garsiv release Zhila; he'd been holding her back while she argued with Dastan. Tamina hoped her own glare rivaled the one Zhila had turned on the older Persian prince.

With the horses hidden and the tracks she and Dastan had made sprinting for the temple entrance scrubbed out, they settled behind rocks. Sprawled on her stomach between Zhila and Dastan, Tamina peered between a gap in the rocks, watching intently as the two horsemen arrived.

The men moved efficiently and quietly into the temple. One they were out of sight, Tamina adjusted her position on the ground, angling the dagger pouch toward her side and out of her back, closer to Zhlia and away from Dastan.

"Where are the villagers?" Dastans voice was barely audible even with his lips nearly touching her ear.

Tamina pulled back as she turned to look at him, looking him in the eye. Distracted by his proximity it took her a moment to respond. "Ceremony. Today is a holy day for the temple Guardians. They won't be back until sundown."

His eyes flickered to her lips as she spoke before returning to her eyes, a gesture Tamina involuntarily returned before they focused back on the two men leaving the temple sanctuary.

Straining to hear what the two men said Tamina dug her fingers into the gravel at the base of rock, willing her nervous energy into the ground to stay calm. Dastan's hand covered hers before she could dislodge the rocks and reveal their presence. His hand was worm and surprisingly gentle against hers.

The man closest to them spoke, drawing her attention away from Dastan's hand on hers. The sun illuminated the sacred star that graced him palm. "The dagger is still in Alamut. The princess would have sent it here at the start of the attack if possible. I will continue on the Alamut and locate it or intercept any envoy to bring in here. Ride to Nasaf and inform the others. I will send word as soon as I have obtained the dagger." Without so much as a nod of acknowledgement the two men rode off, kicking up dust as they rode in opposite directions.

Dastan released her hand, coming to his feet. "They still want the dagger. But without Nizam, why?" It came out as a whisper, asked more to himself than anyone else.

"It must be destroyed, Dastan. If they still seek its power, I must stop them. You saw how close the world came to destruction before. I can stop it now, before it comes that close again." Her voice calm and her most serene expression on her face, Tamina faced him, holding cloth covered dagger in her hands. "It is what I am meant to do. It's my destiny."

"So is leading your people, Princess. Have you thought of what will happen to the people of Alamut when you die? They will declare war on Persia for your death. If they attack, Persian soldiers will have no choice but to retaliate. That isn't a threat; that is fact. We will be blamed for your death. You are so willing to sacrifice your life, Tamina, but what about theirs?" Dastan challenged quietly.

"How dare you question my loyalty to my people, Prince. Persian nobility with its overwhelming concern for its people. Obviously your empire building wars are for the good of your people. It was clearly for the good of your people that you attacked my city." Her voice dripped sarcasm, and in spite of the cutting reply, she could see a light burn in Dastan's eyes. Their subject might be deadly serious, but he was more than willing to fight her.

"Our attack was a mistake. One that we are doing all we can to set right. But if you die, after sneaking out of the city, we will be held responsible. Your city will attack. People will die. Even if our army is restrained. Your death could easily lead to several wars. Alamut is a sacred city. Persia's allies will also see your death as our doing. You might see us as illiterate hordes roaming the desert, but Persian soldiers keep these lands from madness."

Irate over his using her noble calling as a weapon against her sacred duty, Tamina charged toward him, glaring at him with inches between their eyes. "That is why you wish me to live? Your precious empire? Do not blame me, Prince, if Persia's idiocy brings its own destruction. Alamut is protected by the gods! And I will not see their gift fall into your hands again!" Focused on her own rage and trying to ignore the hurt stemming from his reasons for wanting her alive, Tamina was surprised when Zhila pulled her back. Stumbling, she felt Zhila grab her waist to keep her upright, putting distance between her and a seething Dastan.

Dastan stepped toward her, undoing the distance her maid had put between them, but when he spoke his voice was quiet, his eyes softening. "I lost you once. If the people of Alamut give you a reason for not sacrificing yourself, then so be it. But I'm not ready to lose the only good thing that came out of that nightmare a second time. "

Standing close enough to see every shade of blue in his eyes, Tamina searched his gaze. How could she have come to mean so much to him in so short a time? Two weeks of sprinting across his father's empire hardly seemed enough time to warrant the way he looked at her. And she certainly wasn't supposed to feel a quiet thrill when he did.

"Dastan, my duty to the dagger is sacred, a gift and a commandment from the gods. That calling is my reason for being. I cannot deny my mission for anything, or any one." She placed her palm against his chest softly. "I will not fail the gods in my task, Dastan." Standing so close to him, his chest warm beneath her hand, wasn't sure who leaned toward the other, just that the small distance between them was disappearing.

"Tamina," he whispered her name, his eyes focused only on hers.

The tremor that rippled through the earth knocked them both off balance. A thunder clap from inside the temple almost muffled a short lived but agonizing scream. Eyes wide and her hands scrambling for the pouch at her waist the held the dagger, Tamina felt dread settle on her. Pulling the delicate cloth away from the knife inside, Tamina pulled out the dagger Zhila always wore around her waist.

Sharing a stunned glance with Dastan, they both raced into the temple. Against the far wall, Zhila's broken body lay at the base of the wall it had slammed into, the dagger on the ground by her outstretched hand. The sacred rock that would accept the return of the dagger was obscured by swirling sands that left the floor beneath them untouched.

Standing in dismayed silence Tamina tried to grasp the situation. "She tried to put the dagger back." The words tumbled out of her mouth. "She's not the Guardian. But she's a Guardian. The dagger wasn't accepted, but she shouldn't have died. Not as a Guardian."

Dastan looked uneasily between Tamina and the swirling sands, backing cautiously toward Zhila. He picked up the dagger and slid it into his waistband, uncertain of what Tamina would do and what the sands meant.

"I don't think your gods are ready to take the dagger back." It was Bis who finally broke the silence. "If that sand means anything." He looked at the others with a shrug.

Tamina could not believe it. Surely the gods would take back the dagger. It was in danger. By the rules they had laid down for the first Guardian, it was to be protected at all costs. But as Tamina stepped closer to the sacred stone, the sands swirled faster, spitting up dust and pushing her away. "I don't understand. My mission is to protect the dagger, even that means destroying it. That is my destiny."

"You died for the dagger once. Perhaps that was enough." Garsiv answered, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere but in that cave.

Tamina looked back towards the spinning sands. "But I don't remember it," her voice was a harsh whisper.

"I do." Dastan stepped between her and sands. "You made the choice you were meant to make last time. Scared and wanting to live, you chose the option that protected the dagger. That destiny was fulfilled. Now you get to choose your own destiny, in this time."

Looking at Dastan, trying to hide how badly her hands shook at the prospect of having her whole life's purpose redefined, she asked, "Then what do we do?"

Dastan held out a hand, his eyes telling her understood just how much it hurt to have her whole basis of understanding ripped out from underneath her. "We ride to Nasaf. Your Guardians and my father's army will protect Alamut. We find out what the Hassansins have hidden at the capitol. We never travelled to Nasaf in the other time. We can undo any plans my uncle left in place there."

"And the dagger?"

"It stays with us." He gave her his most charming grin. "As long as you don't hit me over the head with a bone and steal it this time."

In spite of everything, Tamina felt an answering smile tug at her lips. "Travelling with three Persian soldiers? I shall do my best," she said and placed her hand in his.

* * *

Still interested?


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all! Sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter posted. It turned out to be much longer than I originally planned. In fact this is part one. I'm hoping to get part 2 done this weekend. Thank you so much for your reviews! I really appreciate all of them. I will try to reply to them. It's a huge help to know what people think. Please continue to let me know you thoughts. Enjoy!

As always I don't won either Prince of Persia or Senor. They are Walt's and Bob's.

* * *

There's a wicked wind still blowing on that upper deck  
And there's an iron cross still hanging from around her neck  
There's a marching band still playing in that vacant lot  
Where's she held me in her arms one time and said  
"Forget me not"

* * *

They walked beside the horses until they were out of the hills, letting them rest as much as possible after the intense morning ride. They had quickly buried Zhila's body outside the temple and away from the village, Tamina saying only the most basic of prayers before they moved on, promising to return and give the woman the burial she deserved.

"Have you a plan, little brother? Or was saving your future wife as far ahead as you thought? We won't make it to Nasaf alive with the water we have with us." Garsiv's tone was mocking but good natured, as he walked beside Dastan, leading Aksh.

"Yes, Prince Dastan, tell us how we are going to get to Nasaf and find a man whose face we haven't really seen." Tamina's sharp tongue had returned with their departure from the temple.

Dastan grinned at them. "Both rider's horses were lathered. They won't be able to ride far today without letting them rest. And from here there are three ways to Nasaf: the roads, straight through the Great Persian Desert, and through the Valley of the Slaves. The Hassansin does not have the water to ride through the desert. And last time through, they were unaware of what the Valley of the Slaves holds. He will have to take roads."

Garsiv returned his grin. "And the roads are marked by Persian outposts and army patrols. He will have to move without gathering too much attention. That will slow him down."

"So I guess that leaves us the Valley of the Slaves. Why must you always try to be the death of me Dastan?" Bis' mournful voice made Dastan laugh.

But before he could reply, Tamina interrupted. "Dastan hasn't told you about the Valley of the Slaves?"

Giving Bis an apologetic wince, Dastan answered. "Given that you sneaked out of the palace with the intent of sacrificing yourself, we didn't exactly have much time to prepare. We just grabbed Bis and enough supplies to make the trip to the temple and return to Alamut. But we will have to stop for the night, I will explain it all then."

With an affable nod, Bis nodded. "Just tell me this much, how high are my odds of dying when we reach the Valley?"

Dastan grinned. "Not nearly as high as the odds of you losing all your money. I'm told the races are fixed."

Bis looked baffled but game. "Since I'm usually betting on you my odds of losing money are always high."

Dastan gave his friend an amused dirty look.

Watching as the three men continued to taunt and tease one another, Tamina took in the details of each one. From the way Bis bantered with both brothers without thought to their rank, to the way Garsiv kept a watchful and protective eye on Dastan, as though uncertain of what move he would make next and wanting to anticipate it, to the relaxed set of Dastan's shoulders. The tension that had been in his shoulders as they buried Zhila and watered their horses seemed to have lessened.

"You're happy to be away from the temple," the words were out of Tamina's mouth before she thought about speaking them.

Dastan looked at her in surprise. "The last time we were there, Garsiv died and the whole village was slaughtered." His voice was quiet and soft. "To see him there is… disconcerting."

With a nod of understanding Tamina looked away, leaving him to conversation with his brothers.

* * *

The group made it out of the mountains and to the oasis where the Hassansin's snakes had attacked by nightfall. Rubbing down and tending their horses first, the group finally settled around a small fire, sharing enough food to hold them over for the night but and still leave enough for the morning.

Sitting in a semi-circle around the fire, Dastan told Bis about the dagger, how he died trying to help Dastan escape his father's court, the ostriches in the Valley of the Slaves, all of it. Sitting between Bis and Dastan, Tamina listened again to the story Dastan told. This time she focused not on the details of the dagger, as she had before, but to the subtle details of how his voice changed depending on the subject, listening for the details of how they had become as close as he said.

She remembered the overwhelming grief over his father and best friends' death, his obvious shame at suspecting his older brother, the pain of realizing it was Nizam who had betrayed them, grief again at his brother's deaths.

But this time she heard more. His bafflement with her seduction scheme to get the dagger, the hope as he realized the dagger could prove he hadn't been behind his father's death. He was still slightly annoyed about being hit over the head with the bone in the Valley of the Slaves. But he was both vague and amused at whatever he'd done to get revenge while they'd been there. The playful glint in his eyes when we looked at her sent a shiver down his spine.

There was a softness in his eyes when he talked about the sandstorm where she'd told him about the first Guardian. And he looked at her just for a moment with quiet longing when he said she'd helped him kill the lead Hassasin. Something had happened there, she was sure of it now. And hearing him speak of her death, she heard not just grief but defeat.

As she listened to him talk of grappling with Nizam to get the dagger out of the sand glass, a new question presented itself. Had he made the determination of how far back in time the dagger would take them? Or had that too been the will of the gods?

When he finished, Dastan waited anxiously for Bis' response. "Well, it explains why you looked at me as though you were seeing a ghost after the battle," he said with good humor. And seeing the ghosts lingering in Dastan's eyes he added. "And why we've spent so much time on the wall."

At Tamina's confused look, Bis clarified. "It's hard to dream when you've worked yourself to exhaustion."

At her startled glance, Dastan gave her an embarrassed look. "Living through your deaths once was more than enough. I'd rather not do it again."

Of course he wouldn't want to live through that again, no one would. He'd had to face down his uncle's treason twice. That was plenty. Her previous question coming to mind again, she asked quietly. "Dastan, did you know how far back in time you'd gone? Did you choose to go back to the end of the battle?"

Dastan looked at her in surprise. "I knew we'd gone back. But not how far. I half thought your gods would kill both Nizam and I for what had happened."

Her eyes searching his, she repeated, "You didn't choose."

Not braking her gaze he shook his head. "If I'd been the one to choose, I'd have gone back to before we attacked Alamut. Stopping Nizam before the battle occurred. When I should have stopped it to begin with."

"Given the amount of divine intervention you've had in your life Dastan, I'd say you went back as far as you were meant to go." Bis voice pulled Dastan and Tamina back into the group, as he raised his eyebrows and gave Tamina a significant look.

Looking at Tamina out of the corner of his eye Dastan gave Bis a quick grin.

"Such a noble prince." The words were a repeat of their last adventure, as was the mocking tone in Tamina's voice. "Good night, princes, Bis." With a regal nod, Tamina settled herself for the night, closing her eye and feigning sleep. Her face impassive and calm, Tamina tried to force away the feeling that gods had all but handed her to Dastan as a prize.

She was a princess and Guardian of the Dagger. She had always known they would define both her marriage and her future. But for the first time, that duty felt painful and disappointing, not the resigned honor she had always imagined.

* * *

They rode the half day's ride to the Valley quickly, but without putting too much strain on their horses. They finally slowed down when they reached the entrance to the Valley. The skeletons stuck on pikes and displayed at the entrance to the Valley gave pause to all but Dastan as they passed.

"Such wonderful friends you acquired on your journey, Dastan." Garsiv kept a wary eye on their surroundings as they entered the canyon.

"Not all of us can have …" Dastan's return insult was cut off by the sound of a knife burrowing into the sand at his feet. "Still disconcerting." He murmured to himself as he watched the knife vibrate in the ground.

The arrival of Sheik Amar and his merry band of tax evaders was the same as before, but no less impressive. "Have you heard of the Ngbaka? It is said they can decapitate two men with a single throw of their knives. This here is Seso. He's an Ngbaka. I had the good fortune of saving his life once. Tell me, Persians, do you have any reasons why he should keep you alive?"

"Ostrich racing," was Dastan's calm reply. "We've heard you have ostrich races. And we've come to trade our spare horse," he said gesturing to Zhila's horse, tied to walk behind Bis.

Sheik Amar raised an eyebrow looking both excited and leery at the same time. "How did you come to think we ran ostrich races?"

Dastan leaned toward the man, speaking quietly. "A group of men who worked in our city spoke of it. Said a man could win big at the races, and that the girls made it worth the ride across the desert."

Amar gave them an appraising eye. "You brought money with you, or you think a single horse will be enough to buy you into the races and pay for your stay."

Dastan grinned. "We have a little money, but we hope the trade the horse for more. We ride to the capitol from here. We want to trade for supplies. And have a good time."

Amar grinned, seeing money in his future, and gestured to Seso. "Get your knife! We'll take them back to the track. The races haven't started yet for the day. You are in time for the whole experience. What sort of supplies are you looking for. We have a wide variety of things to sell you. But to be honest, one horse won't get you to the capitol. Two horses, maybe." His eyes lingered on Aksh, but quickly moved on when Garsiv glared viciously. His gaze finally rested on Tamina. "You'd get a much better price for the girl. I'll trade you another camel's worth for her. She could make good money working here, and be less trouble for you."

Tamina gasped, her eyes narrowing in disgust and shock. Opening her mouth to answer, she was cut off by Dastan.

"I have it on good authority she worth at least two." Barely able to hold back his laughter with Tamina's even more outraged intake of breath, Dastan continued. "She's not an option." He reached out and pulled her fisted hand to his lips, kissing the back. She ripped her hand away. "But her horse is. Two solid mountain horses should get us to the capitol. And we have separate money for the races."

Amar gave the group a shrewd final glance before a winning smile broke across his face. "You just might have a deal there, Persian. Come and see what the Valley has to offer."

* * *

Garsiv and Bis walked besides the sheik's men as they were led on the Tour. Between the Ngbaka and the irate Princess of Alamut, Seso seemed a much less dangerous man to stand beside. Only Dastan had the nerve to stay nearby Tamina, though he seemed to find Tamina's outrage more humorous than dangerous.

The sight of the ostriches preparing for their races brought a started laugh out of Garsiv. "I wasn't actually expecting ostriches," he mumbled to an equally startled Bis. They gave each other baffled grins and immediately began laying money down on the races. When the first rounds of fermented goat's milk came around, they were happy to buy. Eyes watering from the potent drink, they joined their new found friends in getting good spots to watch the races. With liquor and money flowing, no one thought twice of any questions they asked about secretive men skulking through the Valley. At least so far, it seemed the Hassansin's didn't know they could ride through.

* * *

While Garsiv and Bis thoroughly enjoyed gathering information, Dastan and Tamina saw to the supplies they needed. Dastan earning amused and pitied looks as Tamina's wicked tongue took strips off him for his camel comment.

"And who was this 'authority' who told you I was worth two camels?" Tamina hissed at him, as they bartered for food, water, and new clothing for the trip to Nasaf.

"At least two. You're worth at least two." Dastan answered before arguing with a smelly man over wine skins. When they reached an agreement, Dastan turned back to her and said quietly. "The sheik. He told me you were worth _at least two_ camels when I claimed to be trying to sell you to get money. He didn't believe me. Because really, you are worth more than one camel."

He was teasing her. She could see it in his eyes. He found the situation hilarious. Stepping closer to him, her eyes spitting fire, she asked. "And why would you tell him you were trying to sell me for camels?"

Dastan tried to bite back a grin, knowing she was going to flay him when he told her. But he couldn't resist. There was fire in her eyes, but he could see the faintest hint of pleasure there too. Just like before, Tamina enjoyed their battle of wills and wits. It wasn't often anyone challenged a princess, or a prince for that matter. Finding someone who dared was a rare thrill. "I'd already sold you to him."

Her eyes widened before they narrowed, a choked sound coming from her slightly opened mouth.

Glancing around to ensure no one was close enough to hear their words he continued before she could start ripping him to shreds. "You'd tried to kill me twice: once by the fire and once with a bone." He paused to reconsider. "Well four times. Since we repeated the fire side attack three times. And you'd left me to die in the desert after knocking me unconscious with a leg bone. You had it coming." His voice was far more amused than threatening as he watched her reaction.

"I was protecting the dagger," she defended. "I was on a sacred mission. It likely wasn't personal. You stood between me and the dagger's safety. Of course I was willing to kill you to protect it!" Tamina found it more than a little odd to be defending her own unremembered actions, but she couldn't come up with a better response to his 'you had it coming.' Seeing his smirk at her retort, she reconsidered. "Or perhaps I was just smarter before in my judgment of you."

His smirk growing into a full grin as he turned to haggle over dried meat, he said, "If it makes you feel any better, you were by far the most beautiful of the serving girls."

With a stomp of her foot, Tamina turned away, walking with as much dignity and grace as she could manage, feeling the eyes of the men around her linger as she did so. How dare he tell her she was beautiful in an insult! And how dare he say it like he meant it! Of all the men who'd ogled and offered for her hand, many had told she was beautiful, all of them hoping to gain her good will. Their attempts at charm oozing and oily, making her feel the need for a bath. But none had ever had the audacity to say it like it was an obvious fact and as a justification for why they had sold her to an ostrich racing sheik in revenge for attempted murder!

Well, when it was put like that she could almost see some humor in the situation. Almost. And he'd obviously not left her with sheik. But she didn't know if that intentional or just a lucky break on her part. Given what she knew of Dastan and herself, probably some of both.

Her temper still raised, she watched him carefully as he argued, cajoled, and all but begged for the supplies.

Such a strange prince. He was alternately charming and unbelievably aggravating, but he wasn't manipulating. He had no fear or dislike of her temper; in fact he seemed to enjoy battling with her, something she was resolutely going to deny she shared. He was without a doubt one of the more stubborn men she'd ever met. They had that much in common it seemed. But he was also one of the more honorable, her worth in camels aside. And how many princes could convince a dried up old man working with an ostrich racing sheik to trade them a saddle blanket for several pounds of fresh dates? While smiling genuinely the entire time! He hadn't even threatened the man!

Feeling the weight of the dagger in the satchel at her waist and the details he'd left out about their first journey, Tamina wondered again if there was more to the Persian prince than she'd believed. Clearly the gods had pushed her into his path twice now. And in such a manner that left them sneaking around his father's empire looking for traitors and the prospect of a wedding awaiting them in Alamut.

He wasn't opposed to that wedding. Thinking back to his proposal, she reevaluated his words. He genuinely looked forward to the day that they could tease one another in fun. She hadn't quite known how to take that statement at the time. She'd given him points for originality; it was certainly something no other suitor had ever said before. But now she was beginning to understand. He really did look forward to it because it was something they'd shared. And the irony was she found that reassuring in some twisted way. There was no disgust or condescension over her temper or her tendency to speak her own mind. They had literally gone from trying to kill and sell one another away to sincerely caring about each other. She could see the affection easily in Dastan, and given the occasional flashes of hurt she saw on his face when she doubted him, she must have returned it.

So where did that leave them? Dastan cared about her, but his affection was based on a Tamina who both did and did not exist. And she only knew this Dastan. How could they reconcile that into a marriage that did not push either of them into madness? And how was she going to deal with a husband who knew all the secrets he was never supposed to know? She might not have known Dastan for long, but she could say with great certainty that he was not going to simply turn a blind eye and pretend he wasn't aware of things.

Dastan turned briefly and caught her eye as he took the wrapped dates from the old man. Finishing her business with the cloak vendor, Tamina gathered up the three scarves and single long cloak, and carried them back to where Dastan was piling up their purchases.

Loaded down with food, water, and rugged traveling clothes they carried their purchases to the room, if it could be called a room, that the four were going to have to share for the night. Dreading even the thought of such an ordeal, Tamina focused elsewhere.

In her most arrogantly royal tone she baited him. "Are there any other details you left out, or was selling me to the Sheik your only remaining secret?"

Dastan started at her question, and for a brief instant his mind turned to the kiss they had shared and her words of wanting a life together. Ignoring the sharp ache those thoughts brought with them, Dastan pushed an amused smile to his lips.

But she must have seen something. Her eye sharpened, focusing intently on him. "Dastan. Tell me."

"Noth…no… Nothing else." Cursing his inability to lie with a straight face, Dastan closed his eyes. If she'd had any doubt at all, he'd surely just moved it.

"Dastan." The warning edge was back in her voice. "Tell me. I doubt it can be any worse that being sold to Sheik Amar."

"It's not worse. Not like that." He really didn't want to tell her this. Not this way. The memory of that kiss was something he would never forget. It was something he didn't want to forget. If anything good had come out of that horrible future, it was that kiss. And her words that wished they could be together.

If the memory of their kiss was bittersweet, her words were a blinding ache. But he couldn't hear those words without seeing her, grasping his hand, tears in her eyes, and then falling to her death. Those memories wouldn't mean anything to her now, or at least not yet.

Tamina pulled him back to the present, by stepping closer. "What are you hiding?" Her voice was softer, but suspicion was clear in her eyes.

His eyes dropped to her lips before he stepped back. He couldn't make himself say it was nothing important. And he doubted she would believe him if he did. Taking a deep breath, he forced the words out, his voice softer than he would have liked. "We kissed…before. In that other time. In the tunnels. Below the city." Could he not get a regular sentence out?

Tamina blinked up at him, pausing a moment before she raised an eyebrow in her familiar, arrogant way. "I let you kiss me? Well consider yourself lucky, Prince. I usually wound any man who tries."

For a moment Dastan started to give her an equally cheeky retort, but he paused. She thought he'd kissed her? That she'd stood there and let him kiss her. If he was going to be forced to tell her this, then she was going to understand exactly what had happened. It meant too much to him to let it go that easily.

"No, Princess. _We_ kissed."

Tamina looked at him in confusion for a moment. "Yes, that's what you just said…" Her voice trailed off, her eye widening as she grasped his meaning. "Oh." She stepped back, her haughty attitude slipping for a moment as she processed his words. It took several moments before she looked back at him, confusion in her eyes. "Why does that hurt you?"

Dastan watched her carefully. "It was shortly before you died. You helped me kill the Hassansin. Jabbed one of his snakes into his face, so I could stab him. And then we kissed. It was the only truly good thing that happened in that whole other time." He could see curiosity in her eyes, but was still surprised by her next question.

"Who started it?"

Without effort the memory played back in his mind. The feel of her hands in his, the taste of her kiss, her feel of her lips against his, the look in her eyes when they parted. "I don't know," he answered. "We just both…kissed."

That answer seemed to unsettle Tamina, but she moved on with her questions. "And then I died. So it hurts to remember it?"

Figuring that if he had come this far, he should probably go for full disclosure, he continued. "After Nizam had pushed you off the ledge around the sandglass, when you were hanging from my arm, you said you wished we could have been together."

He didn't remember stepping closer to her, but they were now close enough that if he lifted his hands they would easily rest on her hips. Her head was tipped just slightly up as he looked down into her eyes. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her. To find out if this Tamina's kiss was the same as before. But he could see the confusion and unease behind her eyes. This Tamina didn't know him that well. She didn't want his kiss, not really.

Dastan stepped back.

"You kissed me before, but you won't kiss me now?" Tamina questioned evenly.

"We kissed before. But we both wanted that kiss. It should be the same this time."

For a moment, Tamina didn't answer. Surprise was written clearly on her face. "Such a noble prince." For the first time it sounded like she almost meant it.

* * *

Okay, so a little bit of emotional stuff. We get more action next time. And more Bis and Garsiv... what have those two been up to while Dastan and Tamina flirted... I mean fought. :-) Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Hello all. Thank you so much for the reviews! I appreciate all of your reviews, please keep them coming! And thank you to everyone who has added this to their alert and fave list. Your enthusiasm definitely helps! And I really do appreciate feedback.

This is the second part of chapter 3, so it doesn't get a new stanza from _Señor_. That will come with the next update. I hope you all enjoy this bit! Let me know what you think.

Layla

* * *

Sitting at a table in the large open room that served as a dining hall for the Valley's occupants, Garsiv sipped carefully at his cup of fermented goat's milk. He enjoyed his wine, but the goat's milk was an acquired taste. Bis seemed to be fine with it, but he and Dastan had the annoying ability to drink anything without blinking.

He let his eyes wander around the large room. All manner of civilization was present, and though his clothes clearly marked him as some level of nobility, no one paid him the slightest attention. Such an odd collection of people, but so typical of Dastan. Prince and street rat in equal measure, he attracted the most diverse group of people to him.

Bis returned, his gait exaggerated to make him look more drunk than he was. Stumbling along behind him was a man several older than they, with an utterly defeated look on his face. As Bis sat beside Garsiv he gave a quick nod and eyebrow raise to indicated the other man. Continuing his drunken charade, Bis spoke. "When I went to get more," he gestured dangerously with his cup to indicate what he gone to get more of, "and I met Payam. He tells quite a tale. Like us, he was betrayed by the man he served."

Raising a single eyebrow, Garsiv made a pathetic attempt to get his refilled cup of goat's milk from Bis, presenting his own drunken image to the clearly drunk and depressed man. "Come, good man. And tell us your tale. Then we shall tell you ours. And we can mourn our fates together. With alcohol."

Payam sat, taking a precariously large gulp of the milk and began to talk. "I worked for the king's brother," he stated. "Well, it's more than that. My parents were Persian traders, to Turks. But they stole from a wealthy and powerful man." Payam blinked as though the room was spinning around him. "Our family was banished from their lands in disgrace. Even Persia no longer wanted us." He spit on the floor. "But I always wanted to be Persian soldier. To fight for Persia. After that no one would take me. I was going to have to leave."

Seeing that the man was nearly in tears, Garsiv had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Sad stories and copious amount of fermented goat's milk clearly did not set well with this man.

"But I was in the markets of Avrat one day, and helped a noble man with his horse." His eyes widening to comical proportions he continued. "It was the king's own brother. He asked after me, and when I said I needed work, he took me in. He heard my story and took me anyway! It was a great day. I was to help him with a special project. The king needed trust worthy men who could hold their tongues, and he said that was me."

A bleak look settled into Payam's eyes. "For three years, I worked to keep the den running. I made sure no one asked too many questions. I wanted to serve the king, and I did all I could to help. But things began to seem funny. There were secrets that made no sense. But when I asked, he said it was for the king. The terrifying men who trained in the rooms below, with their strange smelling smoke and vicious weapons. Things disappeared. People disappeared. It just kept getting worse."

Payam took another gulp of goat's milk, making Garsiv want to strangle the man to get to the point. "But then word came of the betrayal. I'd never been working for the king at all. I hadn't known, but I knew no one would believe me. So I grabbed the first horse I could find and ran. And now I'm here. Running of out money with nowhere to go. If I tell anyone of this, I will die for treason." Tears slipped down the man's dirty face. He swallowed the last of his goat's milk and his head fell to the table.

Garsiv turned to look at Bis. "Sober him up. We seem to have found another of my uncle's mistakes. Let's see if Dastan can confirm any of what this man says."

With a nod, Bis pulled the man to his feet. "Come with me. You just might have a hope after all."

Garsiv stood up from the table, intending to fetch Dastan, when his brother entered the room, Tamina trailing a half step behind and looking unusually docile. With a small wave of his hand, Garsiv motioned them closer. "We found something. Bis has gone to sober him up."

Dastan nodded, moving to gather some food and drink for him and the princess. As he left Tamina politely asked "did you do well in the races?"

Garsiv grinned. "We did quite well. Bis has a talent for finding good bets. As long as he's not betting on my brother."

Tamina gave him a smile, obviously amused at his enthusiasm. "And does Bis often bet on Dastan?"

He rolled his eyes. "Far too often. When Tus convened the war council to discuss what to do about Alamut, Dastan was found boxing with the best foot soldier in my cavalry. Bis had bet a large sum of money on Dastan winning that fight."

"And did he win?"

Dastan answered, coming up behind her. "We declared it a draw. Since I had to leave halfway through."

"Which was lucky for me, because he wasn't winning at the time." Bis said dryly as he led an almost sober looking Payam back to their table.

"I hadn't lost yet." Dastan retorted, before turning to look directly at Payam. "What brings you to the Valley, friend?" he asked amiably.

Payam looked intently from Dastan to Garsiv and back again. The last of the alcohol cleared from his eyes as he recognized the two men sitting with him. With a start, he stumbled, frantically trying to jump away from the princes.

Bis pressed him back down by the shoulders, as Dastan grabbed his wrist. "Now is your chance to talk. We're in a believing mood. And no one is more aware of what Nizam was capable of than us. Tell us what happened."

His face colorless, sweat beading on his brow, Payam looked between them. "I wanted to serve in the Persian army, to be a good soldier for my king. But I could not. My family was disgraced. Nizam gave me a chance. He said everything I did was a secret task for the king, that I was the perfect man for the job."

The desperation in his eyes reminded Garsiv of the look Dastan had given to Tus when pleading with him to believe that they had been betrayed. Nizam had done so much damage, to so many people.

"He took me to a place in the middle of the desert, a large house in an oasis. It is three days ride from anywhere. He said it was a special project for the king. We were helping train the men who be used to eliminate Koshkan. He said it was a great honor. I was in charge of the supplies, getting what was needed for those of us who lived there."

"For the first year or so, things were fine. But the longer we were out there, the more unusual things became. The men who stayed below, they got more violent. What they did, it became harder to hide. Things started disappearing; people started disappearing. I finally asked the majordomo of the house about things. I couldn't bring myself to ask Nizam. It felt like a betrayal of his trust. But things were getting out of control. It seemed to go against everything the king said he stood for."

Payam took a deep breath, drinking some of the water Bis had placed in front of him. "I was told to keep my mouth shut or I would disappear. And then we heard about you accusing Nizam of treason, and then I knew. I hadn't been helping the king at all."

He reached out and grabbed Dastan's hand. "I did not know, Your Highness. On my honor, I would have never have betrayed my king. I did not know."

Garsiv watched as Dastan looked the man clearly in the eye. He gave Payam's hand a squeeze. "My uncle fooled many men. Even my father."

Payam seemed to realize he'd reached out and grabbed a prince. He bowed his head in obeisance and let go. "As soon as heard Nizam was dead, I ran. I grabbed the first horse I could find. I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." He gave them the first sign of a sense of humor. "I wasn't expecting ostriches when I got here."

Garsiv smirked at the man. "Neither were we."

"Did you see the faces of the men who lived below? Can you describe them to us?" Dastan asked.

As Payam gave details of each man that he remembered, Garsiv watched Dastan carefully. His little brother gave an almost minute nod at the description of the Hassansins. The other men Dastan didn't recognize. Most were down on their luck merchants and servants who had come across Nizam's path, much like Payam had. Two it seemed had been truly loyal to Nizam: the majordomo who ran the household and an unnamed, very old man who could barely get himself out of bed. Of all of them, Payam had liked the old man the least. When he finished his story, Payam watched them anxiously, clearly uncertain what their response would be.

Garsiv turned to face Dastan. "We should send word to father and deal with this desert den."

Dastan nodded. "We will need more men. The three of us will not be enough to handle a den of Hassansins. Tus should have arrived in Nasaf by now. If we continue on, we can deal with the Hassansin who is there, and then gather the men we need to destroy the den."

Garsiv nodded. "We could send this man to father." He turned and gave Payam an appraising look. "One final chance to show his loyalty to his king. Take your story to Alamut. Tell the king all that you have told us."

Payam paled and swallowed, but his eyes burned with resolve. "I will gladly take this tale to the king. But how will he know to listen to me?"

Garsiv reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a medallion on a gold chain. He took it over his head and handed it to the man. "Show the guards this. And tell them you are sent on my word."

Payam took the medallion, slipping it around his neck. "I will not fail you, Your Highness."

Tamina slipped back the scarf that covered her head, allowing him to see her face for the first time. Payam's jaw dropped, his widening as she spoke. "You must go quickly and quietly. Tell no one but the king who sent you or where we are. May the gods keep you safe on your journey."

Payam clearly had no idea who she was, but was more than willing to do anything she asked. "As you ask my lady, I will see it done. I will not fail my king, and I will not fail you."

Tamina nodded, the full weight of princess and priestess behind the gesture, before she adjusted the scarf to once more leave her face in shadow.

Garsiv watched Dastan hide a smirk as he pulled a small cloth bag with coins from his belt. "Take this. Prepare for you journey, you must leave for Alamut at first light."

Payam took the money in surprise, bowing to the group slightly as he left. "I will be gone before the sun rises." He left the room leaving the four of them sitting at the table in silence.

"Think he will make it past the Hassansin and reach Alamut?" Garsiv asked finally.

Dastan shrugged. "They are looking for trouble leaving the city, not coming into it. He stands a better chance than any of us. They will not expect him to seek out the king."

"Are we ready to leave for Nasaf, or is there more still to be done?" Bis asked.

Dastan shook his head. "No, we are ready to go. If we leave at dawn and move quickly, we might get lucky and beat the Hassansin to Nasaf in just over a day. And now we have a description. That should help."

A loud shout pulled their attention to the center of the room. A large man was yelling at one of the serving girls. She was having nothing to do with him, making her rounds among the tables, ignoring the man's insults. When he reached out and tried to grab her hair, Seso appeared almost out of nowhere backing the man down and moving him away from the girl.

Still annoyed at having his romantic attempt thwarted, the man stood up, stumbling with drunkenness, and started for the door. He paused in his steps when his eyes fell on Tamina.

Garsiv tensed slightly, reaching for his sword should the man decide to attack.

Dastan simply wrapped an arm around her abdomen, pulling her back toward him. Tamina followed his touch, draping herself against his chest, and Dastan pulled her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it. Leaning against Dastan as though he was her own personal chair, Tamina sent a scathing look at the drunken man.

Garsiv smirked, not sure if he was more amused by the put out drunk or Dastan and Tamina. For two people who bickered as much as they did, and that was all they had done on the ride to the Valley, they got along surprisingly well. And while it was obvious that Dastan was rather smitten with her, Garsiv noticed that Tamina remained leaning against him just a bit longer than necessary. The Alamutian princess wasn't entirely sure how she felt about his little brother, but she was at the very least curious. And now that she had pulled away from Dastan, she wouldn't look him in the eye. The faintest of blushes graced her cheeks.

Amused at seeing the impassive and always collected princess flustered at something as simple as leaning against her future husband, Garsiv pressed the issue. "How is your husband connected to … all that you do? How involved is he?"

Tamina looked at him with a half hearted glare. "He is not. He was supposed to be unaware." Her eyes flickered to Dastan before returning to him. She sat up straight, challenging him to disapprove. "It is written into the marriage contract. The princesses remain as the priestesses of the city. Any female children born of the marriage belong to the line of priestesses. Any sons born belong to the line of the father. Since daughters are of little use to most royal families outside of marriages, it is easy to get the husband's family to agree. They generally think the women of Alamut are overly pious, but they rarely complain. They gain the title of King Consort, have several children, and their sons return to their own kingdoms blessed by the Alamutian gods."

Garsiv laughed outright. "You couldn't have picked a worse husband. He knows about everything, and his children have no more claim to the Persian thrown than he does."

Tamina gave him a glare that was both confused and annoyed. "Yes. I am quite aware that Dastan breaks every rule possible for my husband. But tell me," she glanced between him and Dastan, "how did a woman who had already married and born children marry the King of Persia?"

Garsiv and Dastan exchanged amused glances. Garsiv answered. "My father has only taken virgin brides. Dastan is not royal by blood, but by adoption."

Tamina looked at Dastan in surprise. "Adopted. From where?"

"Nasaf. I was born in the slums of Nasaf." Dastan's voice was gentle, his eyes focused only on Tamina. "I had no family besides Bis."

Tamina simply looked at Dastan. "Then how did you become a prince?"

Garsiv watched the two watch each other. He was quite certain Dastan had never looked quite so earnest when telling everyone about his past. "The king found me in the streets. He took me home and gave me a family. He gave me my first home."

Bis snorted lightly. "The king found you in the streets because you challenged one of his nobles for hitting me. You always leave that part out."

Tamina reluctantly turned from Dastan to Bis, her eyes questioning. "He challenged a noble?"

Garsiv watched with interest as Bis related the story. Tamina kept glancing between Dastan, who had a slightly sheepish expression on his face when Bis praised him, and Bis, who loved to torture Dastan by telling the story. Garsiv was surprised to see faint edges of trepidation appear in her eyes. When Bis finished, Tamina was staring resolutely into Dastan's eyes. "You are truly touched by the gods. More than ever, I know you were meant to find the dagger." She looked away.

Unable to read the look in her eyes, Garsiv was surprised when Dastan reached out a hand and placed it beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his. "We make our own destiny, Tamina. We can make our own choices."

Garsiv started to give his own opinion on the matter when Tamina snapped back at Dastan that the gods had their plan and it must be followed. As the two continued to bicker, Bis leaned over and stage whispered to Garsiv. "Do you think they realize how close they get when they argue?"

The comment made him snort. "I think that's half the reason they argue."

Bis gave him a grin. Sitting back and crossing their arms over their chests, Garsiv and Bis sat back and observed the display, happily coming up with new ways to torment the prince over his future wife.

* * *

Did you like it?


	5. Chapter 5

Hello all! Thank you so much for your reviews. They are a huge help! This update still doesn't get a new piece of song , but hopefully you enjoy it anyway.

As always nothing belongs to me. Prince of Persia is Disney's and Señor is Bob Dylan's.

Please tell me what you think. And after this chapter I have a question for you. A little advice for the next chapter. Enjoy!

Layla

* * *

Dawn was not a particularly exciting time in the Valley of the Slaves. Other than a few groups setting out for home and a rather raucous sounding dice game no one was conscious. Dastan finished tying the water to the backs of their three horses, getting the group ready to leave.

He gave Aksh a gentle pat on his flank before moving over to where Bis and Garsiv were finishing the last of a quick breakfast several feet away. Tamina had wandered off for a few minutes of privacy before they left. Muffling a yawn, Dastan plucked a date from him brother's hand. He grinned, "Thanks."

Garsiv glared. "I was going to eat that."

"Wouldn't want you to weight Aksh down while we ride." Dastan gave his brother his most innocent and honest face.

"Says the man sharing a horse with their whip –tongued betrothed." Garsiv countered.

Dastan smirked. "Jealous?"

Garsiv laughed outright. "She may be a beauty, little brother, but I like my skin intact. We will likely have to rescue you from her temper half way to Nasaf."

"Probably sooner," Bis added cheerfully.

"Don't rescue me unless I ask for it." Dastan murmured, watching Tamina as she stopped beside Aksh when he whickered at her. Watching them together Dastan wondered if Aksh somehow remember the time before. The normally standoffish warhorse had taken to Tamina much faster this time, always seeking her out when Garsiv wasn't riding him. It was either that or his brother's horse just had good taste in women.

With the sun just starting to rise, the dawn light settled softly around Tamina. Even tired and worn, she drew Dastan's gaze. The hood of her traveling cloak was pulled back from her face, her hair straight and long down her back. She smiled when Aksh nuzzled her hand, stepping closer to gently touch his nose to hers.

"You are sad, Dastan." Garsiv drawled, in response to his watching Tamina. "You're not supposed to let her have the upper hand."

Pulling his eyes away from Tamina and Aksh, Dastan turned to face his brother, raising an eyebrow. "Who says she does?"

"The dopey look in your eyes," answered Bis, popping one last date into his mouth with a grin, before moving to pack the rest of the food away.

Dastan gave his friend a mock glare, bending down to help gather the food. "I'm wounded Bis."

"I'm disgusted." Retorted Garsiv, taking the bags Dastan handed him.

With their hands full of bags of food, the three snapped around at the sound of a violent yell. One of the men from the dice game came tearing out of the tent, a vicious look in his eyes and a sword in his hand. Angry and clearly running from the men chasing him, he ran the last steps between him and freedom, slashing his sword across Tamina's throat to grab Aksh's reigns.

Only steps away, Dastan shouted as Tamina fell, her eyes, wide with surprise and fear, glazing over before her body hit the sand. Throwing himself down beside her, Dastan fumbled with her cloak and blood, ripping the dagger from the satchel where she'd insisted on carrying it earlier. Hands shaking, heart racing, her blood on his hands, and the taste of vomit in his mouth Dastan slammed the jewel button down, rewinding time and watching the nightmare in reverse.

The gold shimmer of the sand all around him, Dastan watched each step the man made, determining just how he could get between the man and Tamina in the few precious seconds he would have when the world stopped spinning. Feeling the dagger melt out of his hand and return to Tamina's side, Dastan settled to the ground back beside Bis, just about to hand the bag of dates to Garsiv.

The world snapped back into place.

He threw the bag to the ground, drawing one of sword he'd slung across his back. Shouting at Garsiv, he was moving as fast and as soon as his body would allow. "Get Aksh!"

The man came barreling out of the tent once more, sword drawn.

Straining, Dastan arrived the crucial split second earlier. His left hand grabbed Tamina and drew her to him with enough force to snap her head back just as the man's sword split the air just behind her neck. Not expecting Dastan to have moved so fast, the man couldn't quite bring his sword back down in time to block, and Dastan's blade ran him through.

Swearing behind him, Garsiv pulled an irritated Aksh away from the man's body.

Dastan pulled his sword out of the man's gut.

His heart still thundering and hands shaking, Dastan kept his arm around Tamina. Her hands were between them, palms against his chest, her eyes the size of coins. Standing close enough to bump noses if they wished, they just stared at each other wide eyed for several moments, Dastan using all his self control to not kiss her. The urge to convince himself through touch and taste that she was alive and well was almost overwhelming.

The moment catching up with her, Tamina started to pull away and reach for the dagger when Shiek Amar and Seso came up, having broken up the fighting at the tent. Hearing the sheik, she stopped moving, unwilling to give the presence of the dagger away.

"Absolutely no more fermented goat's milk after midnight. That or no dice! This is will have upset the birds. Terrible races today." Amar sounded angry and hurt. He gazed at the dead man before turning to Dastan, his voice leery. "That was quite impressive, Persian. How did you move so fast?"

Not able to come up with a better answer he used the same words he had before. "Instinct," he said, his arm tightening reflexively around Tamina's waist as the memory played back in his mind. For just a moment, she leaned against him, her warmth comforting in spite of her pounding heart. When she stepped away, he let her go.

The sheik looked suspiciously between them. "Just what brought you to the Valley, Persian? It wasn't my races, and the only woman you look twice at is your own."

"We're just passing through." Tamina said, her voice regal and calm.

"And you just conveniently had money to bet with and swords to stop a cheating gambler?" Amar peered doubtfully at Dastan and Garsiv, as if trying to place them.

"We were in the right place, at the right time. Nothing more. But we thank you for your hospitality." Dastan said, trying to get the Sheik to move along. Amar had no reason to trust or help them this time around.

Seeing that they weren't going to give up any more information, Amar returned to his businessman persona. "Any man with money is welcome to bid on the races. Nothing makes the day go by like a good tax free race. No government conspiracies, no taxes. Just ostriches. Perhaps we'll see you around, Persian." Amar raised his hand to his mouth, stage whispering to Dastan, his eyes on Tamina. "If she's still giving you trouble, bring her by on the next trip. I'll give you a great deal on camels."

Dastan heard Tamina's breath catch in anger and for a moment the absurdity of the situation made him want to laugh hysterically. To once more debate Tamina's worth in camels only minutes after watching her throat cut nearly drove him crazy. Before Dastan could recover enough to answer, Amar moved on to talk to Garsiv, encouraging him and Bis to return anytime.

Taking a deep breath Dastan stepped over to his own horse and mounting up. He extended his hand to Tamina, moving his foot from the stirrup to allow her to climb up behind him. Her arm around his waist, Dastan turned his horse to follow behind Aksh. With Bis bringing up the rear, they set out for Nasaf.

* * *

Sitting behind Dastan, one arm wrapped around his waist for balance Tamina shifted slightly to get more comfortable. Dastan was still tense, his body language as rigid as she'd ever seen. The group had remained silent until they were out of the Valley to avoid anyone overhearing what they said.

"Dastan, what happened back there?" Tamina kept her voice gentle but firm. She wanted answers.

She felt the ripple run through his muscles, and tightened the arm around his waist temporarily. "You were running before he even left the tent. Why did you use the dagger?"

She felt Dastan draw in a deep breath before he spoke, his voice tight. "He slit your throat. The first time. You were between him and Aksh, so he slit your throat. I was talking with Bis and Garsiv. Not paying attention, and he slit your throat."

Reflexively, Tamina reached her free hand up to her neck. "I died," she said softly.

Dastan gave her a mirthless bark of laughter as he turned to partially face her. "If front of my eyes. Again." He looked away. "Your body hit the sand just as I got there. I wasn't fast enough."

Focusing on his words and not on the queasy feeling she got anytime they discussed her death, she responded. "You cannot think to save me from everything. Expecting attacks from your uncle's men is one thing, but you can't expect to anticipate rogue gamblers choosing that moment to get caught and run. If it is my destiny to die, Dastan, you can't change that."

Dastan pulled up on the reigns, bringing their horse to a stop. He turned to face her as much as could without getting off the horse. "I will not let you die again. Not when I can stop it. You were not meant to die at the hands of a cheating gambler."

She stared him straight in the eye. "And when the time comes that I must die for the dager?"

"Then I will give my own life to find another way before I see yours sacrificed." His blue eyes were steely with resolve.

"Destiny is determined by the gods, Dastan. You cannot think to alter my life just because you do not wish to see me die. As the dagger's Guardian I can and will do anything to protect it. It is my duty and my calling. It's an honor."

Dastan snorted. "And so I should have let you die at the hands of a gambler just to prove that I understand why you must protect that cursed knife? I know what your duty is, Princess. But I also know mine. You are the dagger's Guardian, but as your husband I am yours."

Tamina glared at him, leaning forward to make her point. "You are not my husband," she hissed.

"Yet." Dastan smirked.

Opening her mouth to give an equally aggravating retort, Tamina wondered if they had been like this before. Baiting one another at every possible moment, and ending up close enough to either kill or kiss one another. She started to reply. Her quip was superseded by Garisv.

"Would this be one of those moments where we aren't supposed to protect you?"

* * *

So, now for the advice? To add the slightly mushy fireside middle of the night conversation, or just get the group to Nasaf?


	6. Chapter 6

Hello all! Sorry it took so long to get the next chapter up. It was a long week followed by a busy weekend, but here it is! As requested I added the midnight conversation. Remember I said _slight_ mush. More will be coming later, I promise. Just not quite yet. Also, not song update yet. I'll get to the next stanza soon.

As always, thank you all for the reviews. I appreciate all of them. They are a huge motivator to keep this going. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Layla

PS: They aren't mine. I'm just tormenting them for my creative amusement.

* * *

Tamina lay on her back, staring at the stars, unable to sleep. The fire had died down, only the barest embers still glowing. She sighed silently. Sharing a room with the three men last night had taught her several things: Garsiv snored, Bis mumbled, and Dastan could fall asleep almost in mid sentence. Not used to the sounds of anyone nearby, particularly male grumbling, she found sleep to be rather elusive.

Dastan was asleep a few feet away, the dagger folded into the cloth he was using as a pillow. Unlike the previous night, he'd been drifting in and out of sleep since they bedded down for the night, nearly as unsettled as she was. The faint glow of the fire reflected gently on his face. He was far less aggravating when he was asleep.

She and Dastan had spent the majority of the day's ride bickering over when the dagger's power should be used and when the gods ruling should be left alone. They'd finally had to change the subject when Garsiv threatened to gag them both for the remainder of the trip.

She turned over on her stomach, sighing again. Resting her head on the horse blanket that served as her pillow, she closed her eyes and once more tried to fall asleep. The tension was just starting to bleed out of her shoulders when Dastan woke once more. With a groan he sat up, resting his forehead on his drawn up knees, taking careful deep breaths. Even in the dim light of the moon, she could see he was pale and tense. He stayed that way for a long moment.

When he still hadn't moved, she gingerly sat up, being careful not to startle him. She'd feigned sleep the other times he'd awakened. Reaching for the water skin beside her, she handed it to him, an innocent look on her face when he gave her a questioning glance. "It's just water," she whispered.

He took a long drink and a deep breath before he replied. "Why are you awake?"

"I haven't been to sleep," she answered honestly, still whispering.

He gave her an odd look.

With a smirk she replied, "Acting. You didn't seem like you wanted to be disturbed." At his half-hearted glare she smiled. "Why can't you sleep?"

He looked away uncomfortably. "I'm just restless."

Tamina looked at him carefully, taking in the shadows in his eyes and remembering what Bis had said about being too tired to dream. "You didn't spend the day on the wall. You're having nightmares." It was a statement, not a question.

Dastan gave her a half-hearted glare. "Watching people you care about die in front of you does that."

"How is it different from a dream?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Dastan looked at her in surprise. "You've never used the dagger?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It is forbidden, unless doing so protects the dagger itself. The Guardians know better than anyone what happens when time is changed. We know not to take such risks."

He looked at her carefully, his eyes reevaluating something. "Have any of the Guardians ever used the dagger?"

"There was one, several centuries ago. The dagger was threatened, and she was forced to defend it. Her writings of what happened are now taught to all the Guardians."

"How did she describe it?"

Tamina gave him a tight smile. "She it was like holding madness in her hands. That she was as haunted by what did not become the future as by what did. She said mortal minds are not meant to hold such power."

Dastan shifted, "She was right. That knife is more curse than gift." He sighed, but then answered her original question. "It's like…eating tainted food."

At his bizarre statement, she gave him a baffled look. "What?"

He gave her a small smile. "Have you ever eaten tainted food? Where you get violently ill after you've eaten it."

Her confusion obvious and slight distrusting she nodded slowly. "I drank bad milk as a young girl."

Dastan winced in sympathy. "How long before you could drink milk again?"

Still suspicious she answered, but not without making a face. "Several years. I couldn't even smell the stuff, and I avoid it if I can now."

Dastan nodded. "It's the same with this. You really died in front of me this morning; it wasn't just an image from a dream. I can still smell the sand and blood. I can feel your blood on my hands and knees as I knelt and pulled the dagger from your satchel. Just like the smell of milk brings back your sickness, so strongly, because it really happened."

Understanding his comparison now, she looked away. How much like madness that must seem. "Do you always dream of our deaths?"

Dastan shook his head. "I haven't in several nights. Seeing everyone alive helps push the thoughts of what happened before away. This morning brought it all back." He paused and looked at her. "But why are you awake?"

Now it was her turn to shy away. "I couldn't get comfortable," she said, sounding as regal as possible while whispering.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're lying, Princess."

She glared. It wasn't fair that he could read her so easily. She glanced away. "I do not like that the gods will not take back the dagger. I don't understand why they are allowing it to remain in danger."

Dastan's perceptive eyes watched her for a moment. "You are the dagger's Guardian, and yet they have thwarted your attempts to do what you've been taught."

She nodded. "This little adventure goes against every rule I've been trained to follow. They won't take the dagger back, but it is not safe in Alamut right now, so we are running around Persia with it. My husband was never to know about the dagger, and yet you are the one who saved it. And you've used it." She paused, debating if she should say her final thought. She'd known this man for a week, and yet he'd shown such trust in her. She continued, looking him in the eye. "My life is to be dedicated to the dagger, nothing is supposed to be more important than that, and yet you have made it clear that you will guard me over it."

Dastan took a deep breath, reaching into one of the food bags beside them, and pulling out a cloth filled with dates. He handed her one, before popping another into his mouth. "You told me, just before you let go of my hand in the chamber with the sands, that it was my destiny to protect the dagger, not yours. But I could not have done what I did without your help. And you would not have survived the attacks of the Hassansins without me."

He turned to face her, his eyes concealing nothing. "We are in this together, Tamina. Perhaps that much is Destiny. But we can choose what we make of it. So I will choose to protect you. I value you more than that dagger, but I know that you are its protector. It in guarding you, I guard it. That is how I will handle what your gods have given me."

With that look of unconcealed determination and affection in his eyes, she had to force herself not lean that inch forward and kiss him. It would be so easy to do, to satisfy her curiosity about what kissing him would be like. The dim fire embers and the moon setting a scene too easily taken advantage of. Her eyes flickered to his lips and back before she made herself pull back slightly and focus on his words.

He chose to protect her as his way of guarding the dagger. He wasn't denying that the gods had put the dagger into his path, he was just setting his own method of dealing with it. And he thought that they were meant to do this together.

So maybe that was where her choice came in. If he was destined by the gods to be a protector of the dagger and her husband, then she had two real options. She could push him away, force the situation to return to what she always assumed would be her future. She could have a distant and political marriage, guard the dagger as all the other Guardians had in the past. She could, with enough effort, make that reality.

But none of the other Guardians had ever had someone like Dastan to contend with. Their writings confirmed that. And while she firmly believed the gods were thorough and cared for their people, she doubted they took the time to consider what Dastan's lips felt like when he kissed her hand. Or what affect his gaze had on her heartbeat. Her attraction to him was not something the other Guardians had ever written about in their accounts of their husbands. They described honor and acceptance of their mates, of pride in knowing he would give them the daughters they needed, of their bravery in facing their marriages. Had they just left that out of their writings, or did she have something that they did not?

Clearly none of the other Guardians had ever stolen the dagger out of the city, had the gods reject its return, and gone running around Persia with two princes and their friend. Her situation was unique. So maybe an unconventional marriage to Dastan wouldn't be a direct violation of her duty to the dagger. She would guard the dagger, and Dastan would guard both it and her. And she did not have to force distance between them.

So then her pending marriage, whenever it was, was maybe one less thing to worry about, at least from that perspective. The gods had sent her down this path. They had placed the dagger into his hands, not once but twice, so they must have intended for him to have it. And as such, her as well. They were never going to be the typically royal rulers of Alamut, not with that beginning, but maybe that was okay. These were unusual times, and the usual rules might not apply. And just maybe that meant she didn't have to feel the twinge of guilt that followed the thrill at the idea he cared enough of about her, not her titles or duties, but her, to want to keep her safe.

It was something to consider. But not in the middle of the night with said prince watching her reactions and still far too close for her to forget his proximity.

"I will have to think about it," she acknowledged finally, offering him a slight nod of acquiescence.

At her haughty manner he quipped, "Don't hurt yourself, Princess." A cheeky grin curved his lips. Even in shadowy light she could see the humor in his eyes.

The corners of her lips twitched. "Considering that a _you _came up with the idea, I doubt it is that complicated. You'd strain yourself if you tried to think that hard."

He laughed quietly. He offered her another date, popping it into his mouth when she shook her head. He took one last sip of water and lay back down. "Dawn is still hours off. You should get some sleep."

"Tired of my conversation?" she teased, settling back down on stomach, but still watching him. She saw him smile, the scar on his cheek highlighted in the moonlight.

"Just tired. What sort of protector would I be if I fell asleep in the saddle tomorrow?"

"Persian," she responded immediately. Resting her head on her arms, she closed her eyes. "Good night, Dastan."

"Sleep well, Tamina."

* * *

Sitting just inside the main city gates of Nasaf on the back of a cart, her travelling cloak pulled close around her face, Tamina surveyed the scene before her. A small but rather boisterous group of men were huddled off to her left, placing bets and cheering on the fighters who stood in the center. Currently Dastan was taking a pounding trying to fight an enormous Turkish man who had more hair than teeth, and he was nearly bald.

Calling encouragement and also keeping an eye on anyone who walked through the gate was Bis. His left hand held the coins he'd wagered on this particular fight. He'd made a small fortune off of Dastan's previous victories, but the prince wasn't likely to beat his current opponent. Bis shot her a grin and returned to the gate and fight.

She was holding on to their meager possessions: Dastan's shirt, Bis's scarf, a few more wine skins filled with water and their dwindling pile of dates. Watching every man who came through the gate, her eyes were tired from squinting and her head hurt.

They had arrived in Nasaf just after midday, barely skirting the edge of a dust storm that had blown through headed to the main road. They had managed to keep going despite the horrible winds, but Tamina doubted she would ever get her skin free of the sand. For once she was grateful not have anyone looking at her, certain that her windblown face was red and scratched. But the storm had been a blessing. It had barely brushed past them. But it had crossed the road in full force, evening their odds of reaching the city ahead the Hassansin they chased.

They'd bedded down their horses at one of the stables used by Dastan's company of soldiers, figuring the risk of being seen there was far less than trying to stable warhorses in general stables. They had found a room for rent not far away, posing again as travelers to ensure they were able to make an easy escape should they need to follow the Hassansin to a new location. And to avoid the inevitable political mess of the palace learning that Dastan and Garsiv had smuggled in the unwed Alamutian princess. Dastan's intended or not, it would not have gone over well.

Tamina winced as Dastan took a particularly vicious punch to his left side, wrestling the larger man to the ground as he fell. He shouted a retort to Bis, who was calling backhanded encouragements, as he tried futilely to get out of the hold he was pinned in. It took several squirming seconds before he conceded defeat. Struggling to his feet, Dastan gave the man a nod of appreciation before he moved to stand beside Tamina.

Guzzling water from one of the skins, he noticed her gaze and gave her a cheeky grin, tossing unremembered words back at her. "See something you like?"

She gave him her most thoroughly disgusted look and returned her gaze to the gate. "So much confidence from a man who just lost. Shouldn't the Lion of Persia win when he fights? "A hint of humor leaked into her voice, but she willed the smile away.

He laughed and winked at her as he pulled on his shirt. Hopping up beside her on the cart, he snagged a date. "He's half giant and fresh to the fight. Killing him seemed unnecessary."

"Such nobility." She drawled, squinting at the group of men walking through the gates. "If we don't see him soon, the gates will shut for the night. I find it hard to believe we arrived that far ahead of him."

His eyes lingering over every man walking through the gate he nodded. "We'll have to start searching the hard way."

She faced him and raised an eyebrow, baiting him. "And fighting Turkish traders wasn't hard?"

Dastan leaned closer, his blue eyes shining with humor. "You enjoyed watching."

It took far more effort than it should have to force her eyes away from his. Her tendency to get distracted by his nearness seemed worse after their little chat the night before. "I was watching the crowd, not watching you."

He smirked. "You didn't wince every time Bis took a hit."

She glared. He wasn't supposed to have noticed that. "Since he took far fewer than you, I didn't feel as badly when he did."

"I'm sure that makes him feel better."

She opened her mouth to give an equally haughty reply when she saw him. The man was still dressed in black clothing, but he looked much worse for the wear. His horse was lathered, foam gathering on its ribs, as it trudged forward. Horse and rider immediately took a side street, pulling away from the rest of the incoming traffic and drawing little attention.

She elbowed Dastan. "There he is."

Before she could point the man out, Dastan was on his feet. He took two running steps across the bed of the cart, jumping and grabbing a hold of a timber sticking out of the roof of the building behind her. He kicked his feet, swinging his boy forward, he moved one hand to the neighboring timber, using the two pieces of wood to lever himself up. He managed to sit on one beam, before gaining his balance and standing up. In two quick steps he'd crossed the remaining wooden beams, leapt forward, and using his feet and an open window pulled himself on the roof.

Her jaw open in surprise, Tamina watched as he disappeared across roof tops, staying just behind and out of sight of the man he chased.

Bis appeared at her side. "If he's lucky, no one will notice him and he can follow the man to his destination."

She faced him, looking skeptical. "How could he not be seen flying across rooftops?"

Bis gave her a confident grin. "How do you think he took down the gate in Alamut?"

Tamina gave him an exasperated glare. Gathering the last of their possessions, she and Bis drifted quietly away from the fighting crowd. They made their way inconspicuously toward their rented room. With Dastan chasing the Hassansin and Garsiv still up at the palace informing Tus of what they had found, their main priority was staying still and in a known place until they could come up with a better plan.

* * *

so, what did you think? :-)


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay. Between work and getting sick, it's taken me a while to get this next chapter up. I want thank all of you for the reviews! They are such a huge motivator. Thank you guys! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter (we finally get a song update too!). I can't wait to hear what you think!

As always, I don't own either Prince of Persia or Señor. They are Disney's and Bob Dylan's. I'm just borrowing them for my own amusement.

* * *

Señor, señor, I can see that painted wagon  
Smell the tail of the dragon  
I can't stand the suspense here anymore  
Can you tell me who to contact here, señor

* * *

Three days. Three days that were alternately boring and aggravating, and they still knew next to nothing. Except that the Hassansins were no better at waiting than they were. And that they were protecting something, but Dastan had no idea what. Their rooms were never left empty. Of the five Hassansins who were there, two were guarding the room at any given time. And they were very careful.

Slipping silently across the rooftops of Nasaf, Dastan pushed the frustrating thoughts out of his mind and focused on not waking the people sleeping inside the homes below him.

He'd left Bis at the rooms used by the Hassansin. Bis would spend the next four hours on watch alone, before Tamina woke and joined him. Her watch would also be eight hours, four with Bis and four alone, before Dastan would relieve her. It was exhaustively boring work, and had so far given them little insight into why the Hassansin were still hunting the dagger. Other than a few vaguely whispered references to an old man, presumably the one Payam had spoken of back in the Valley, they had gained nothing. The Hassansins it seemed were also waiting.

Tamina blinked sleepily up at him when he entered the room they had all been sharing when not on watch. He shook his head, and she settled back to sleep.

He watched her silently for a moment, her features evening out as fell back asleep. They'd spent the past three days sleeping about 2 feet apart on an unforgiving dirt floor four hours a day and trading witticisms during their waking hours. Her eyes were getting warmer and softer when their gazes locked. And if her eyes lingered on his lips one more time, he was quite certain he was going to kiss her even if she hadn't quite made up her mind yet.

He gently ran his finger down her cheek, savoring the soft feel of her skin. She'd jumped into their little surveillance plan with her usual tenacity, and he'd enjoyed watching her charm the kids on the street while she pretended to beg for coins during her hours on watch. For all the motion and urgency of their last trip, he was enjoying the chance to spend time with her that didn't involve immediate death. They'd both managed to spend a few extra hours on each other's surveillance shifts, half to annoy one another and half to simply spend time together without Bis and Garsiv providing a running commentary.

With a final brush of his finger tip against her cheek, he stepped away and lay down on his own bed roll. The even sound of Tamina's breathing was soothing as he tried to focus on the feeling that had been nagging him during his watch.

He didn't understand why the Hassansins were hiding out in Nasaf, clearly waiting for something. But the fact that they were had been eating at him. With Nizam dead, what was in Nasaf that would help them? Why not stay in their hidden retreat until it was over with? Payam had said they had left the retreat with the old man before the rest of the servants and staff had been aware of Nizam's betrayal. But why? Nasaf certainly kept them closer to the palace, but that wasn't any help to them as far as Tus and Garsiv had been able to determine.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Tamina made a whispered murmur in her sleep, turning slightly to face him. He took a deep breath and let his mind relax, knowing that going over the same details he'd been focusing on all day wouldn't bring any new answers and wouldn't let him sleep. Listening to her breathe Dastan slowly drifted off to sleep, still feeling as though he was missing something.

As he faded into sleep, the images from his hours watching the Hassansin house began to blur into memories of Alamut.

He was crouched on the roof where he could over look their rented rooms, shifting his weight silently as he strained to hear the words coming from the rooms two stories below. He could see them through the window, one pacing and the other sharpening the blades on his staff. Outside the rooms Persian soldiers dug channels deep into the streets of Nasaf, calling to one another as they pulled bucket after bucket of sand from the streets. Beside him Tamina also moved, balancing against him for a moment as she adjusted to get a better look at the Hassansins.

With the fuzzy quality only present in dreams he turned to look at her, smiling when she didn't pull away from him. The sun above shimmered in her hair and highlighted her warm eyes. She reached out to him, placing her hand on his cheek and said "Step only where I step."

Confused he watched as she stood up and carefully placed one foot on the edge of the roof where they were perched, in full view of the Hassansins below. He started to grab her and pull her back down beside him when she fell in a rush of flowing sand.

He yelled and threw himself forward to grab her arm, his fingers barely managing to maintain his grip on the stone column that supported the sand glass. His arm screamed in pain as his hold on her strained cut on his upper arm. His left hand felt like it was being ripped apart as he dug his fingers into the rock to keep them both from falling into the abyss below.

She looked up at him with fear and regret in her eyes. "I wish we could have been together," she said, her voice breaking off in a scream as she started to slip. "Dastan!" He heard her words come out in a sob as he struggled to hold on her, his own screams lost somewhere in his throat.

Just as she started to slip the last inch, he felt a change. Instead of her hand letting go of his, she'd managed to once more grab hold of his wrist, her grasp warm and firm. With everything he had, he pulled her back onto the rooftop ledge above Nasaf. His heart pounding he pulled her to him, holding her tight as he looked to see if the Hassansins below had noticed the commotion. Nothing had changed in the streets below, the soldiers were still digging and the Hassansin continued to sharpen his weapons.

Feeling as though he'd once again missed something, Dastan turned to Tamina. She smiled at him sweetly, and he lost the thread of the dream, slipping into a deeper sleep.

* * *

Watching Dastan carefully, Tamina rolled farther onto her stomach, letting her arm rest in a more comfortable position as he held tightly to her hand. She could see the tension fade out of his body, his features gentling as the nightmare faded.

He'd awakened her with his muffled yelp and twitching limbs. She'd started to wake him up when he murmured her name. It was the mumbled reaction of a dreamer, but she could still pick out his fear and pain, even half asleep. His hand had flexed, the muscles of his right arm tensing against side. Without thinking she'd reached out, wrapping her hand around his. Dastan's response had been instant, his grip tight enough to sting before it had settled into a firm but painless embrace.

She started to pull her hand back, wanting get her last few hours of sleep before she had to go relieve Bis, but his hand tightened briefly as if to stop her. She tried again, but even sleeping Dastan was insistent. Shifting closer, to let her arm relax against the ground between them, she dragged the pillow with her other hand. Settling herself closer to him than she was entirely comfortable with, she let herself drift back to sleep. Dastan tended to move about in his sleep. There was no doubt in her s mind that he would release her hand soon, allowing her to move away. She'd just have to be patient until he did.

* * *

The sound of footsteps and a loudly clearing throat snapped Dastan awake. He sat up, his right hand reaching for the dagger the was under the blanket he used as a pillow. He felt resistance against his left wrist and started to use the grasp to leverage his attacker to floor when his eyes focused on a grinning Garsiv.

Sending a vicious if sleepy glare at his brother, Dastan turned toward his left hand, surprised to see Tamina's hand in his as she drew herself up to her knees. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously at Garsiv. "Are you having fun?" she hissed.

With his eyes focused on their joined hands, Dastan dimly heard Garsiv answer with great relish "Apparently not as much as the two of you." But his mind was swimming groggily through distorted memories of sand swirling, Tamina falling, and soldiers digging.

As he tried to sort through the mishmash of dream fragments he heard Tamina futilely trying to explain that she'd been calming him from a dream. Some part of his brain registered her statement and gave a small thrill at her words.

She tried again to work her hand free of his grasp, but he held on. The sensation sharpened the memories, and he finally brought the scene into focus. It took several moments before the significance registered.

His head snapped up, eyes burning into hers, his hand tightened on hers. "When did you collapse the tunnels?"

He startled her. Her eyes widened then narrowed when she turned to look at him. "When you breached the gate."

"Who besides you knows how to reach the sands without using the tunnels?"

Tamina looked hard into his eyes for a long moment before she tightened her grip on his hand and answered. "Zhila knew. The regent of Alamut. Myself. Dastan, why is this important?"

"There is no possibility that the Guardian Hassansin knows of the other way to get to them?" He clarified looking into her eyes.

Tamina shook her head. "The hidden passages are guarded as one the greatest secrets of Alamut. Only the Guardian, her closest attendant, and the regent know. No one else is ever to be told. Ever." Her eyes hinted at the inner turmoil that resulted each time she told him another detail of the dagger.

Dastan reached out with his other hand and traced her cheekbone with his finger, holding her gaze softly. He wasn't supposed to be a part of any of this. And yet in both futures she'd been forced to trust him with all of it. She turned her face into his touch just slightly. Hating to break the moment, but well aware that Garsiv was watching their every move, he pushed on. "Have you opened the tunnels yet?"

Finally pulling her hand away from his, she snorted. "Yes Dastan, with all the entertaining of Persian royalty that we've been doing lately, excavating our secret tunnels has been very high on the priority list."

Dastan smirked. "That's what they are waiting for, Princess. That's why they haven't gone to Alamut."

Garsiv looked at him in confusion. "Why would the collapsed tunnels keep them out of Alamut? It didn't stop our uncle last time."

Dastan gave him a tight smile, guilt mixing with the horror of remembering that time. "The last time we were the conquerors of a traitorous city. We could dig up Alamut as long as we pleased. Nizam went straight down through the city square last time."

Garsiv felt his eyes widen in understanding. "They can't get to the sands."

Dastan nodded. "They can't get to sands." He turned to face Tamina. "Have the tunnels ever been filled in before?"

Tamina shifted, her usual calm eroded slightly from stress. "Yes. Once before."

"The Guardian who used the dagger?" he asked.

She nodded. "According to her writings, it took several months for the tunnels to be discretely dug out. The Guardian demi-temples and a room in the palace are settled over the main entrances. It takes time to removed the sand and then rebuild the mechanisms that allow for their collapse."

"So they must wait until the tunnels are dug out. Their priest is not high enough in the order to know how to get in the other way. But why move the whole group to Nasaf? What do they gain by waiting things out here?" Dastan stood and began to pace, needing an outlet for his nervous energy.

Garsiv leaned back against the wall and watched his brother. "Proximity? According to Payam their base is well hidden, but it's hard to reach. Father has raised the alert of our uncle's treason to the whole kingdom. Anyone who draws unusual attention is in for a rough time. They couldn't move information easily from cities to their base without attracting that kind of attention."

Dastan shrugged an acknowledgement. "Payam said the Hassansins left with the old man before anyone else in the city had even heard about the attack."

Tamina faced him, her eyes filled with the calm that came when the priestess was speaking. "They had to. Your uncle was in a unique position, Dastan. To overthrow a king taken years of planning and effort to gain the allegiance of his people. The new king needs enough supporters to aid him in his plans, all of whom must know and understand what they are working for."

She continued, " Not so for your uncle. Only a very select few needed to know. He could tell any others, men like Payam, that they were supporting their king. He didn't need their loyalty. In his new time, he would be the only king they'd ever have. It made things much easier for him to hide. But as soon as word got out, men like Payam would know they had been deceived. They had to leave immediately or risking trying to hide a city full of dead men. Even in the desert that would be hard to hide without attracting attention. Payam said they did business with local merchants. They would notice the sudden absence of business."

Dastan grimaced. "Time would have changed everything."

She nodded. "It always does."

Garsiv stepped away from the wall, drawing their attention. "But why do they still want the dagger. Our uncle is dead. Who can use it now? No one is left who could arrange to make Nizam king. But they are clearly following some sort of plan. But to what end?"

Dastan gave him a bitter smile. "I don't know. I can't come up with a reason."

Garsiv gave him a sour look. "So we're just going to sit around here and wait until they come up with a way to dig out the tunnels?"

Both Garsiv and Tamina reacted to Dastan's grin. "Dastan, what are you going to do?" she asked wearily.

"We need to get inside and see what they are protecting. They never leave less than two men inside the rooms. Unless we get inside we'll never know why."

Tamina stepped towards him. "That's impossible."

Dastan gave her an amused smile. "Difficult. Not impossible."

Garsiv smirked. "My brave little brother, I suppose you think you should be the one to go inside?"

"I'm better at the fast get away. And you're awfully good at making a scene." Dastan answered with a grin as he looked over Tamina to Garsiv.

Garsiv glared. "Given the size of their rooms, it will take you too long to search alone. We'll both go. I'm certain your princess can make quite a scene when she's motivated."

Dastan shook his head emphatically, trying to control his reaction to the thought of Garsiv and the Hassansins fighting. "No. Tamina goes nowhere near them. And neither do you. They've killed you once. I won't risk that again."

"It's not your choice, Dastan." Garsiv hissed. "I will protect my family the same as you. I'm not afraid of a past that didn't happen."

Dastan started remind his brother than it had happened. That he'd buried his brother after watching him die. But Tamina interrupted.

"While you two debate your brotherly duties for insane tasks, perhaps we should consider a better plan. One that doesn't risk the dagger? As soon as they realize we are watching them, they will know why. Before anything else, we must keep the dagger safe."

The three of the stood in silence for a moment, before Dastan grudgingly conceded. "When Bis gets off watch, we'll start planning. We'll get a few boys to watch the rooms while we plan," he said, cutting off Tamina before she could protest that she would not be part of the planning. "They can watch for a few hours. We have a good idea of their schedule."

Garsiv nodded slightly. "I will return to the palace and update Tus." At his smirk, Dastan was quite certain that most of that update would involve how Garsiv had found him and Tamina sleeping. "I'll return when Bis heads back. And arrange a proper meal for us while we plan. No need to be hungry while we work.

* * *

Anyone else looking forward to raiding the Hassansin's rooms? ;-)


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